Counting Kisses
by starknakedgendry
Summary: The 4th, 5th and 6th times were back in the Godswood, where they end up kissing instead of praying. When Jon Snow commented how Gendry seems to be a prayerful man lately, Arya only laughed and said that Gendry has a new-found faith in the faces on the trees. He didn't need to know what his sister and his blacksmith friend had been doing in the Godswood apart from daily prayers.


Gendry is most definitely addicted and he couldn't find the will to stop.

The first time was at the back of the forge while he worked repairing her brother's dented breastplate. Robb Stark had won the North back to his people, and has worked tirelessly to restore Winterfell back to its glory. Gendry - no, _Ser Gendry, Knight of the Hollow Hill_, fought bravely beside the King in the North and helped the Northmen sieze their land back from the unworthy trespassers.

It had been hot in the forge that day; hotter than how it usually was as the bellows he used blew air into the fire to make it burn more ferociously. He was sweating profusely and so he decided to just take off his tunic and keep only his apron on.

And that was how Arya found him when she walked in, carrying a plate of fresh fruit. She walked up to where he was, wearing a pretty smile on her lips that he found extremely infectious. He took the plate, snatched a grape and popped it into his mouth. He placed the plate on the table by the wall and walked towards her.

She looked really pretty; her plaited hair hanging down her back with some tendrils coming loose. He reached out to touch a lock of hair, entwining its smoothness around his fingers. She looked up at him with those big, round Stark gray eyes and he found himself unable to breathe. He slowly disentangled his fingers and moved to grab the end of her braid, gently but firmly tugging her towards him. She gave a soft chuckle as she willingly let herself be tugged.

He let her come close, but not too close still, for he was covered in sweat and soot and he did not want to dirty her pretty lady's dress. She rolled her eyes, _how very unladylike of her_, until she stepped towards him at her own accord. When they were chest to chest, pretty dress to smith's apron, lips almost touching lips, he leaned his head down to hers and kissed her.

She tasted like summer roses in the cold of winter.

Her lips were soft and warm and terribly inviting, and at that moment he knew he would be addicted to this.

* * *

The second time was at the Godswood after she had prayed to the heart trees.

It was her favorite place in all of Winterfell, _aside from the smithy, as she liked to say_, but the Godswood reminded her of her father and all the good things in her life before the war. She stayed away from the castle for hours, until her brothers and the knights searched the forest until they found her. And it was where they always found her, here in the Godswood, until her brothers stopped sending out search parties and eventually let her be. It was these moments by herself that she treasured the most, since the castle and its occupants were both a welcoming and hostile distraction from performing her duties as the King in the North's sister.

Sometimes when she was most troubled, she took Gendry with her. He had a calming effect on her; somewhat a soothing balm that engulfs all her fears and worries, even when he just sits there and says nothing. For her, it must simply be his presence that gives her strength and Gendry is deeply-touched by this.

Today was especially different, because it was her father's death anniversary. She was quiet, which was very unusual of her. Gendry sat at a close distance, not a word heard from his lips, nor a sound made from where he sat. She was sitting on the huge rock in front of her father's heart tree - the rock that her father used to perch himself upon as he polished his broadsword, _Ice_, and contemplated on decisions to be made as the Lord of Winterfell.

He just watched her sitting there - head bowed, shoulders hunched and tired-looking, hands daintily clasped on her lap (dainty is never a word to describe his little wolf girl). She looked every bit the little wolf _lady_ the North deemed her to be, but to Gendry, she looked so much the tired and deeply-troubled little wolf _girl_ he knows she is.

He was surprised when she suddenly speaks and tells him of how she loves her brother, Robb, but she deeply misses her brother, Jon, who was further up North at the Wall. She tells him of her fight with Sansa earlier that day (which was not unusual, really) because her sister keeps pressing her about a prospective marriage to_this _ Lord or _that _Lord, while Arya very much wanted to give Sansa _this_ fist and _that_ fist.

He finally walks over to her, pulling her off the rock before sitting on it himself. Then he pulled Arya back down, on his lap this time, and immediately, she wound her arms around his neck and leaned her weary head on his strong, muscular shoulders. They were silent for a long time; only the sound of their breaths, the birds up in the trees and the rustle of leaves in the branches were heard. That was, until Arya leaned back a little to look into his eyes.

Damn those Stark grays again.

Her lips were demanding this time; urging him closer still while her hands shifted from soft teasing to gentle tugging to urgent grasping. It was she who nudged his mouth open with her tongue. Gendry's head started to reel when she pulled him in deeper, sucked his lips and tongue over and over again. At times, she slightly pulled back but without letting go of his lower lip, causing Gendry to emit a throaty chuckle at the exhilarating sensations her lips, teeth and tongue are causing.

* * *

The third time was in her chambers.

The door to Lady Arya's chambers needed fixing and so Gendry was summoned from the smithy and up into her castle chambers. The first couple of hours, it was just Gendry and the two young Lords, Bran and Rickon. They spoke about the current Winterfell gossip - yes, the men gossip too - and there was light banter and a content feeling in the air as the two Lords dallied in Arya's chambers, watching as Gendry cut and bored and shaped and hammered on their sister's door. After Arya's water dancing lesson, she ran up to her chambers to see Gendry and her younger brothers laughing over a jest. They greeted her with silly grins, until the young Lords said farewell, a knowing look on their faces as plain as day. With a final wave, Bran and Rickon exited the room, leaving a nervous Gendry and Arya.

She was going about, fixing her things in the room as they talked about their day. He kept up with the hammering and screwing of hinges until he noticed she has moved closer to where he was working. He resisted the urge to tell her how her presence distracts him terribly, but he thinks she knows because she laughed when he yelped in pain as his hammer smacked right on his left thumb. He glared in her direction, but she only stood there with a lopsided grin on her face.

_Lady Arya distracts him to no end and she knows_. _His little wolf girl knows._

He surprised her by moving as fast as Nymeria, for in the next second, he was standing in front of her with a scowl on his face. And then he leaned in to kiss her, his lips _almost_ touching hers before he pulls back. Arya's forehead creases as she looks up at him with questioning eyes. Gendry only responds by leaning forward again and then pulling back once more. This time, Arya realizes his game and she growls angrily like her direwolf. She tries to put her arms around his neck but he grunts disapprovingly, grabbing both her hands in only one of his, and shakes his head to silently say no. The frown on her face deepens; almost scrunching up in anger, to which Gendry only teases her some more. She growls his name in frustration, and Gendry fights back a smile when he learns he has succeeded. He turned his back to her, making a few last strikes of his hammer on the door (that was now fixed and in place), before turning to face her again. She looked more surprised than angry now, and Gendry leaned down one last time before _finally_ planting his mouth on hers in a firm but close-mouthed kiss, before taking his leave without even a backward glance in her direction.

Gendry Waters realized that leaving Arya frustrated is the best kind of revenge.

* * *

The fourth, fifth and sixth times were back in the Godswood, where they end up kissing instead of praying. When Jon Snow commented how Gendry seems to be a prayerful man lately, Arya only laughed and said that Gendry has a new-found faith in the faces on the trees. If Jon noticed the way Gendry's face flushed red in embarrassment, he didn't show it. Jon preferred not to know what his sister and his blacksmith friend had been doing in the Godswood apart from daily prayers.

But the seventh time was different. They were in the pond near the castle, playing in the water under the morning sun. Arya told Gendry that she's leaving him to his work because she plans to bathe in the pond nearby. With a last teasing look at him before exiting the forge, she leaves Gendry staring at her retreating form with a hungry look on his face. When he silently slipped into the water and grabbed her waist, she wasn't surprised at all. He knew she'd been waiting for him and that she told him that he's stupid for taking his bloody time getting there for she was completely and shamelessly horny for him.

Gendry gawked her for a while before realizing that he's wasting precious time stupidly staring at her incredibly _naked_, and so he leans over to kiss her. They tease each other with lips and tongue, licks and bites and nips, until Gendry dunk her into the water with him. They played like this for a while until Gendry asked her to take one last breath before slowly pulling her down with him once more.

It was very unusual; this kind of kissing underwater. Their legs were tangled against each other, his hands helping to keep her head down as he kissed her. When he felt her pinch his arm, he gave his last breath to her before they went back up for much-needed air. They were threading underwater when he realized Arya was quietly staring at him with a bewildered look on her face. She asked if he's done this before since he seemed to know what to do, but Gendry shook his head in the negative and she looked twice as bewildered as she was earlier. Gendry gave Arya a knowing grin and she squealed when he took another big gulp of air before grabbing her waist again and plunging back into the water.

* * *

If someone asks him how many times he's kissed his wife, he wouldn't know. He stopped counting after the tenth time, when Arya right smacked him in the head and told him he was stupid for doing it. He only laughed at her until she threatened that if he still keeps count, the tenth time would be the last.

Gendry shut his mouth immediately.

They'd been dallying in bed for most of the morning. Arya had been feeling sick during unpredictable times - in the mornings when she wakes up, before going to bed, after she has broken her fast or even in the middle of supper. Old Maester Luwin says that although it is normal for pregnant women to feel such, Arya was already on her ninth month when she began feeling sick and weak again as if it were the first few weeks. Gendry is constantly worried; not being able to work for long in the forge nor can he stay for long during a hunting trip with his brothers-in-law. Today was a little different, since Arya refused to get out of bed and just slept the day away. After the midday meal, Gendry went up to their chambers and found Arya huddled under the covers of their large bed. He took the space behind her - his usual spot - and pulled her very pregnant form closer to his. She hummed in contentment; seemingly comfortable now that she finds herself in her husbands arms again.

After some time, with Arya on her back and Gendry leaning one elbow on the mattress, he peppered kisses on her rounded belly as gently as possible. Arya would giggle from time to time, and Gendry found her mirth quite infectious. His gentle kisses soon moved upwards, his lips grazing from the undersides of her full breasts and up to the spot in between them. He loves hearing her gasp in pleasure because it was for him and him alone; the sound she emits becomes some kind of offering from her to him, and glories in each and every sound she makes.

By the time Gendry's kisses moved from her full breasts, to the silky column of her throat, to the graceful lines of her jaw, to her moist lips, Arya was almost delirious with need. It was her final month and would soon give birth to their third child, and she knows perfectly that they could do no more than kisses and touches and the occasional self-gratification.

Gendry wanted to pleasure her with his mouth, creeping slowly down the length of her body, when Arya suddenly grabbed onto his unruly black hair. He cringed in pain and told her so, but she paid him no mind because her eyes were squeezed shut and her breaths came in pants. He knew then that something was wrong, and realized only that the babe was coming when she screamed it into his ear.

The next time Gendry placed a kiss on her mouth was in the morn of the second day, and a babe they now call Eddard was sleeping peacefully in between his proud and beaming parents.


End file.
